Chapter 368: [Side Story: Yan Zhusheng] (1) You

"Turn around, shift to the side—yes, like that."

"Then lower your hands to your chin, don't look at the lens—look at the sky."

"Your aura doesn't need any extra expressions—no smiling needed, just stay cold and aloof."

"Perfect, just like that."

By Xihu, beneath the willows.

Branches swayed, willow fluff drifted in the air.

A woman stood by the lake, posing in various stances, her expression serene and otherworldly.

She wore a light blue striped shirt and jeans, tall and slender, her waist-length hair giving her a uniquely ethereal aura, like a white lotus blooming beside Xihu.

Time left almost no mark on her face—her snow-white skin, carved like a work of art, made passersby unconsciously pause, yet dare not stare too long, as if afraid of disturbing her.

On the other side, the photographer, dressed in a white shirt and black shorts, lowered her camera after finishing the shoot, then loosened her hair and re-tied it into a high ponytail.

"All done—let me treat you to a meal," the photographer brushed a strand of hair from her ear and said, "It's been months since we last met."

"Mm." Yan Zhusheng gave a slight nod, her expression calm. "Where to?"

"Yuhang Restaurant nearby—let's have some home-style dishes."

Following the photographer, Yan Zhusheng got into her car and fastened her seatbelt in the passenger seat.

Watching the scenery outside slowly recede, Yan Zhusheng asked, "How long are you staying this time?"

"About a week," the photographer said, driving steadily with both hands on the wheel. "I'll probably have to go over there for a meal in the middle—want to come along?"

"No."

"Ying Xiangtao's starting middle school."

"No." Yan Zhusheng turned her gaze to the window. "Let them be happy. I'm fine on my own."

"Just having a meal won't hurt," the photographer said. "You live alone all the time—no one to talk to. It's bad for your mental health."

"And you? Traveling everywhere—does that keep you from having problems?"

"That's my job," the photographer pointed to the equipment in the backseat. "I have to interact with people—just like now, my dear model sister."

"You go. I'm not going."

Unable to persuade her, the photographer gave up.

They arrived at Yuhang Restaurant and walked up the stairs together.

The photographer ordered a window seat and led Yan Zhusheng to it.

During the meal, the photographer did most of the talking, sharing stories from her travels and work.

Yan Zhusheng listened quietly, occasionally nodding and murmuring brief replies.

Midway through, the photographer suddenly fell silent, scrolling through her WeChat on her phone, seemingly chatting with someone.

Seeing her quiet, Yan Zhusheng calmly turned to gaze out the window, wishing only to get home soon—to listen to music or hum a tune.

But after ending her WeChat chat, the photographer's expression darkened. She asked the server to bring some wine, pouring a small glass for Yan Zhusheng.

"It's rare we meet—have a drink with me."

Yan Zhusheng stared at the small glass before her, momentarily startled: "You usually don't drink."

"Today I'm in a bad mood."

"Who were you chatting with on WeChat just now?"

"An old middle school classmate," the photographer downed her drink in one gulp, furrowed her delicate brows, made a soft tsk, refilled her glass, then asked Yan Zhusheng, "Have you ever been in love?"

"No." Yan Zhusheng shook her head. "I'm not interested in love."

"You just haven't met the right person yet."

"Have you?"

"I met someone when I was young," the photographer smiled sweetly, then took another bitter sip of wine. "But he probably lost me."

"Then go find him," Yan Zhusheng asked, puzzled.

"No way," the photographer waved her hand, raising her glass to clink it against Yan Zhusheng's.

Yan Zhusheng had no choice but to lift her glass and take a small sip.

"So you liked him?"

"I did," the photographer answered without hesitation, then immediately added, "When I was young. Not anymore."

"Oh." Yan Zhusheng gave a slight nod.

"You've never been in love—have you never liked anyone at all?" the photographer asked curiously.

"No."

"It's because you meet too few people," the photographer gestured emphatically. "You stay cooped up at home all day—how could you ever meet someone you like?"

"I'm not interested in men," Yan Zhusheng replied flatly, shaking her head.

"Really?" The photographer dramatically clutched her chest, eyeing her with suspicion. "Then I'd better watch out."

"…" Yan Zhusheng stared at her. She knew the photographer was joking, but such exaggerated gestures were rare. "Are you drunk?"

"Underestimate me? I've only had two glasses."

Out of nowhere, Yan Zhusheng asked, "Can you edit videos?"

"Huh?" The photographer blinked, then laughed. "Asking a photographer if she can edit videos? That's almost an insult."

"I want someone to manage my Douyin account and edit videos of me singing or practicing piano," Yan Zhusheng said. "Are you free?"

"Me?" The photographer frowned. "I probably don't have enough time for that… but…"

Hearing this, the photographer suddenly remembered something, her expression turning hesitant.

"But what?" Yan Zhusheng asked, puzzled.

"I have someone to recommend."

"Who?"

"Hmm... one of my... classmates."

"A girl?"

"A guy."

"No." Yan Zhusheng refused without hesitation.

"Come on, just think about it first."

"No." Yan Zhusheng shook her head. "Guys are too much trouble. They'll cause unnecessary distractions."

"Don't overthink it. He definitely won't be interested in you."

Yan Zhusheng: "…?"

"Uh… I didn't mean you're not good." The photographer quickly waved his hands, smiling awkwardly. "But I can guarantee he won't bother you."

Hearing this, Yan Zhusheng fell into a moment of silence.

She was actually very smart; after connecting the dots, she came to a guess: "Is it that guy you like?"

"I don't like him." The photographer denied it.

"That guy you liked when you were little."

"…Yes."

"Then have him come over. I need to interview him." Yan Zhusheng felt a flicker of curiosity—she wanted to know who this person was, to have turned this guy so completely.

"No no no, can we do this another way? I don't really want to meet him."

"Then what do you want?"

"Cough… how about this…"

…

One evening.

Li Luo had just come downstairs when everyone pushed their carts toward the bustling nearby street to sell fried rice noodles.

Then he got a phone call.

"Hello?"

"Grill skewers?"

"Grill your ass." Li Luo sighed. "I'm working. Don't waste my time."

"I'll pay."

"No." Li Luo snapped. "My mom's in the hospital and we're short on cash. You still owe me tens of thousands. Forget the skewers."

"…Fine."

After hanging up, Li Luo fell silent for a moment, then walked downstairs with a scruffy beard, mounted his cart, and rode to the nearby street corner.

At thirty-four, he had accomplished nothing. Because Lin Xiuhong was hospitalized, he'd shamelessly borrowed money from everyone, drowning in debt.

The family's savings had long been emptied due to the real estate project with Wei Dongrong.

When a major illness struck, they simply couldn't afford much.

He borrowed a little from his uncle and aunts, then a bit more from his second and third grandfathers' families.

Now Li Guohong was even preparing to sell their house, so Li Luo no longer cared about saving face.

He didn't just borrow from his close friends—he also swallowed his pride and asked You Yu-jie.

He still hadn't repaid the eighty thousand he'd invested before; now this debt would likely haunt him for life.

As he calculated how much he owed, Li Luo pushed his cart along the street, selling fried rice noodles with heavy steps.

When he was busy deep into the late night, a tall, broad figure appeared before his stall.

"Boss, two orders of fried noodles." A familiar voice reached Li Luo's ears, making him freeze.

He looked up and saw Zhao Rongjun grinning at him, pointing to the braised dishes nearby: "And two chicken legs, one duck head. One order spicy, one not. Add ham and eggs."

Li Luo opened his mouth. The street was nearly empty at this hour. If he remembered right, Zhao Rongjun finished work at nine and should've been fast asleep in bed.

"Two orders of fried noodles? Can you eat all that?" Li Luo laughed. "Is your wife eating too?"

"She can eat shit." Zhao Rongjun rolled his eyes, then pointed to the plastic folding table and chairs behind Li Luo. "You've got no customers now. Let's have a couple drinks together."

"…Alright."

Li Luo expertly fried two bowls of noodles according to their tastes, added chicken legs and duck heads, and set them on the plastic table.

Zhao Rongjun had already unceremoniously pulled two beers from Li Luo's foam cooler, plopped onto the plastic chair, and let out a squeak.

The two sat facing each other. Zhao Rongjun said nothing, just slurped his noodles loudly.

"Your fried noodles are really good." Zhao Rongjun wiped sweat from his brow, clinked his beer bottle against Li Luo's, then sighed contentedly. "Way better than what my wife makes."

"Eat more if you like." Li Luo had no appetite; he ate a few bites and stopped, drinking alone.

Seeing this, Zhao Rongjun immediately grabbed his arm to stop him: "What's the point of drinking alone?"

"I'm already miserable. No matter how I drink, it's still miserable."

"How's your mom doing?"

"…She's out of immediate danger, but needs ongoing treatment."

"Do you have enough money?"

"If I don't, I'll find a way myself. Don't lend me so much you get divorced over it."

"Divorce doesn't matter." Zhao Rongjun sneered. "As long as you're okay."

"Nothing major—just can't find a decent job." Li Luo shook his head with a bitter laugh. "Never thought we'd hit a midlife crisis this early. I figured it'd wait until forty or fifty."

"Still can't find work?" Zhao Rongjun frowned. "Didn't you write scripts well before?"

"AI's advancing too fast. Unless you're a famous screenwriter, mid- to low-tier writers are basically wiped out." Li Luo shook his head, smiling bitterly. "And they offer full-package production—script to film. The cost gap is huge. Writing scripts alone is too unstable."

"What about the others?"

"Other jobs are worse than me selling fried rice noodles..." Li Luo said. "I sent out dozens of resumes, none of them suited me."

"Where did you send them?"

"On my phone."

"Let me see?"

"Here."

Li Luo didn't think much of it, opened his phone, launched the job-hunting app, and handed it to Zhao Rongjun.

Holding Li Luo's phone, Zhao Rongjun's expression flickered; he kept chatting with Li Luo while scrolling through the app, swiping aimlessly at something.

Soon after, Zhao Rongjun suddenly handed the phone back, pointing at a job posting: "This one looks pretty good. Try it?"

"Huh?" Li Luo glanced over and saw it was a video editing and operations position.

【Position Title】:

Video Editing and Account Operations.

【Work Location】:

Yinjiang District, Yuhang City.

【Position Description】:

Urgently seeking an editor with basic video editing skills and some experience in Douyin account operations.

This position will be responsible for planning, editing, and publishing video content, managing related social media platforms, and coordinating with advertisers and other resources.

【Main Responsibilities】:

1. Plan and shoot videos related to music.

2. Edit and publish videos.

3. Operate the related Douyin account and coordinate with advertisers.

【Position Requirements】:

1. Associate degree or higher.

2. Priority given to those with over two years of Douyin account operation experience.

3. Priority given to those with short-video creation experience.

4. Proficient in editing software, familiar with platform operation rules.

【Salary and Benefits】:

1. Daily work hours not exceeding eight hours, flexible scheduling.

2. Monthly salary 7,000–10,000, negotiable.

3. Flexible leave, apply anytime.

After reading the full job description, Li Luo fell into thought.

It wasn't that the job had any problems.

Or rather, it did have problems—but the biggest problem was that this damn thing seemed tailor-made for him.

Every single requirement felt like it had been designed precisely around his own qualifications.

And it just happened to be in Yinjiang District—down to the exact location.

How come he'd never seen this job before, yet Zhao Rongjun scrolled through it right away?

Suspicious, Li Luo checked the posting's publication time: this evening.

No wonder...

He'd been napping this evening.

So it had just been uploaded.

"What are you standing there for?" Zhao Rongjun urged. "Don't overthink it—just submit your resume first. I scrolled and found this job that fits you perfectly. It's gonna cost me years off my life."

"Submitted, submitted." Li Luo tapped the resume submission button, a faint hope rising in him.

But soon he corrected his mindset, not taking it too seriously.

After all, a job with such good benefits must attract many candidates better qualified than him—he knew his skills barely scraped by, unlikely to meet the standard.

If someone else applied, he'd have no real edge.

Thinking this, Li Luo set it aside and continued drinking with Zhao Rongjun.

The next day.

Li Luo sat up from bed, rubbing his slightly throbbing head.

After turning off his alarm, he was about to log onto Taobao for work when he opened his phone and saw an missed call.

It was an unknown number.

Li Luo assumed it was a scam call and ignored it.

But when he noticed a new message on the job app, he immediately opened it—and saw his resume, submitted just yesterday, had already received an interview invitation.

【Are you there?】

【I called you, but you didn't answer】

【If you're free, come for an interview today. Address: xxx】

【Please reply when you see this】

Seeing the message, Li Luo froze. Was this efficiency real?

He'd submitted his resume at midnight, and now at six in the morning they'd already messaged him?

He glanced at the missed call—made at 6:30 a. m.

He thought for a moment, then tentatively replied on the job platform's backend.

【Li Luo】: Hello, I just got up. When can I come in for the interview today?

Originally, Li Luo planned to get out of bed and wash up first; if there was still no reply, he'd call to ask.

But before he even found his slippers, a new message came through on his phone.

——【You can come anytime. If you're free now, come right over.】

【Li Luo】: Now? At that address you mentioned?

Li Luo picked up his phone and quickly replied.

——【Yes.】

He calculated the address—it was only two subway stops away.

Li Luo figured out his commute time, then replied:

【Li Luo】: I'm on my way. I'll be there in half an hour!

——【Good. When you arrive, call me. I'll come down to get you.】

Li Luo hadn't expected such efficiency from the other side.

He immediately rolled out of bed, didn't bother looking for his slippers, and ran barefoot into the bathroom for a quick wash, then pulled out a suit he hadn't worn in eight hundred years and threw it on.

Once he was mostly dressed, Li Luo hurried to leave.

"Where are you going?" Li Guohong, just awake and preparing to go to the hospital to care for Lin Xiuhong, saw Li Luo in full suit, rushing out, and asked, "Interview?"

"Yeah, a job that seems pretty suitable." Li Luo quickly slipped on his shoes. "But I'm not sure—it's just an interview."

"Oh, be careful on your way." Li Guohong nodded. He'd wanted to offer a ride, but remembered his car had been sold, so he gave a bitter smile. Watching Li Luo open the door, he added, "The house has found a buyer. Let's start looking for a decent rental during this time."

Hearing his father's words, Li Luo unconsciously paused, turned back to meet Li Guohong's gaze, then looked around at every brick and tile in the room, his lips tightening.

He'd lived in this old house for over thirty years…

To sell it so suddenly—it really choked him up.

And…

Li Luo nodded lightly, stepped out the door, and quietly closed it behind him. Then he turned to the opposite apartment.

"Now it's truly cut off, clean and complete." Li Luo walked to the opposite door, touched the couplet pasted on it. No key inside—he sighed, then turned and hurried downstairs.

But just as Li Luo left, Li Guohong received a call from Lin Xiuhong.

Seeing his wife's number, Li Guohong's heart tightened—he thought something was wrong—but when he heard her voice, she sounded almost cheerful.

"Lao Li, guess who came to see me?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Hurry to the hospital," Lin Xiuhong said happily. "Where's Li Luo? Tell him to come too. Quick!"

"Li Luo just left for his interview."

"What good is his interview? How many has he done already?"

"Lin Yi, forget it." A voice came from the other end of the line. "Just ask Uncle Li to come. Don't call Li Luo—his interview is more important."

…

At exactly eight in the morning.

Li Luo stood at the entrance of Jinlin Wangjiang Fu, staring at its grand exterior and dignified, understated gate, feeling a little intimidated.

Is this really where he works?

Could it be the boss's home?

Thinking this, Li Luo hesitated a moment, then called the person who had phoned him that morning.

After about fifteen seconds, the call connected.

"Hello? Good morning," Li Luo said immediately, polite and courteous. "I'm the one who said I'd come for the interview. I've arrived at the community gate. Where exactly is the interview?"

"Understood. Wait a moment." A cold, clear voice came from the other end.

Li Luo froze.

Could this be a woman?

And though the voice was cold, it was strangely pleasant.

"The one in the suit?" the voice asked again.

"Y-yes," Li Luo looked around the community entrance, puzzled—he saw no one.

He then looked up toward the buildings, wondering if someone was watching from above.

But just as he thought this, footsteps sounded behind him.

The next second, the same voice came from both behind him and the phone: "Come."

Li Luo jumped, turned around—and froze when he saw the woman's exquisite face. He was still confused.

"You're…"

"I'm the one who called you for the interview." Yan Zhusheng walked toward the community gate without stopping. "Follow me."

"Um… is this your home, or our workplace?" Li Luo hurried after her, asking in confusion.

"Both." Yan Zhusheng swiped her face at the community gate, gestured for him to enter, then passed through herself and led Li Luo inside.

"Both?" Li Luo couldn't help asking again. "So our team…"

"Just me." Yan Zhusheng said. "If you pass the interview, you'll be the second."

"Huh?" Li Luo stared, unable to suppress another glance at the girl beside him.

But unlike ordinary guys, perhaps because he'd met many women of similar beauty, Li Luo merely admired her briefly, then refocused his attention on the job.

"So you have a TikTok account and need someone to plan and edit videos, right?"

"Right."

Hearing this request, Li Luo relaxed slightly.

He had originally thought it would be at least a small team.

Those small teams with few members, though relatively relaxed and pleasant in atmosphere, demanded more from each person and often required them to be jack-of-all-trades.

But this girl's requirements seemed many, yet in truth were just one: edit the video well.

How complicated could a TikTok video be?

He just didn't know if there was a minimum video count.

Thinking this, Li Luo followed her into the elevator and all the way to her front door.

After stepping inside, Yan Zhusheng brought Li Luo a pair of slippers.

As he changed shoes, he glanced around and realized the house was a duplex—quite spacious.

"Aren't your family members home?" Li Luo asked, puzzled.

"No," Yan Zhusheng said calmly. "But there are cameras everywhere. A housekeeper comes regularly to cook and clean, so behave yourself."

Li Luo: "..."

She made it sound like he'd do something terrible.

But then again, she was a young girl alone at home, and stunningly beautiful—he could barely understand.

"Then how does the interview work?"

"Follow me."

Yan Zhusheng watched as he finished changing slippers, then led him upstairs into a recording studio.

She pointed to the camera beside her, then to the piano by the window, sat down at the piano, and said to Li Luo: "Adjust the angle properly—don't let my face enter the frame—and record a video for me."

"Oh." Li Luo nodded. With his Short Drama shooting experience, though he'd lost money, he still had the basic skills to record a simple video.

He adjusted the camera's lens and angle, found a suitable spot, and said: "Ready."

"You say start."

"Start."

The next second.

Yan Zhusheng's hands fluttered like butterflies across the piano's black and white keys.

Accompanied by the familiar melody, her singing voice gradually rose.

"When I curiously banged the black and white keys~ When I hid in my room, lost in joyous performance~"

It had to be said, this opening lyric was oddly fitting.

Listening to Yan Zhusheng's beautiful voice, Li Luo froze, instantly immersed in her performance.

Especially when the high note "The sky has no limits" pierced his eardrums—he was stunned in place.

He'd originally thought she was just a TikTok influencer posting borderline videos to attract attention.

But now, looking at this, he seemed to have misjudged her…

She truly had talent.

"That's enough." Yan Zhusheng sang only one chorus, then ended, turning to look at Li Luo.

Li Luo immediately stopped recording and turned to Yan Zhusheng: "Recorded. What next? Should I edit it and send it to you?"

"No." Yan Zhusheng shook her head. "Edit it right here."

She led Li Luo to the study, uploaded the recorded video to the computer, and told him to begin editing.

Li Luo was still dazed—he hadn't expected her to act so swiftly, so decisively; he'd just been handed a job on the spot.

"Any requirements for the video?" Li Luo asked.

"None." Yan Zhusheng shook her head. "Just make it TikTok-ready."

"I see…"

Honestly, TikTok now allows long videos—this one- or two-minute clip could be posted as-is.

With Yan Zhusheng's vocal texture and singing skill, Li Luo felt any editing he did would be redundant.

Still, to demonstrate his ability, he followed TikTok's traditional length and cut a ten-second high-energy clip.

Paired with Yan Zhusheng's singing, it was genuinely captivating.

The whole process took less than five minutes.

But to make her think he was working seriously, Li Luo kept trimming and adjusting, forcing himself to sit for half an hour before rising to tell Yan Zhusheng, resting on the living room sofa, that the video was done.

Honestly,

This job was too simple—he couldn't understand why she didn't edit it herself.

After finishing, he felt no special contribution at all.

But what Li Luo didn't expect was:

Yan Zhusheng merely glanced at the short ten-second clip.

Once.

Then she nodded and said:

"Good. You're hired."

"Huh?"